The Great Brain Robbery (9 page)

‘Take what you need,’ said the old spy. ‘But listen very carefully. Spying is not a game. It is a very risky business. You must be patient and you must be brave. You never know
what you might find out.’

Neet had been right about Timmy. The next day, Frankie noticed him behaving very oddly indeed. Usually Timmy didn’t want to be seen anywhere near Frankie-no-friends but
that day he seemed to be lurking around every corner.

‘Have you heard any more from Wes?’ Frankie asked Neet, as they queued up for their lunch.

‘Shhh,’ whispered Neet, flashing a warning glance. ‘He’s listening.’ Frankie peered over his shoulder and, sure enough, there was Timmy pretending he was studying
the ceiling. Then later on, when he and Neet were eating their crisps on the playground bench, Frankie heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.

‘Timmy!’ Neet whispered and, lo and behold, there was Timmy scurrying away with a notepad and pencil.

‘Alphonsine’s right,’ said Frankie, shaking his head. ‘He’s spying on us. Let’s just hope we’re better at it than he is!’

They didn’t have to wait long to find out. As the children drained out of the school gates Frankie and Neet kept a close eye on their target. Then, as soon as Timmy had left the school
grounds, they started to follow. Before long it was clear that Timmy was not on his way home. He took off in the opposite direction, walking hurriedly along the pavements and staying close to the
walls.

Soon they were beyond the houses and heading out of town. The light was fading fast as the autumn sun sank beyond the horizon, but the two trackers were grateful for the cover of darkness. Timmy
scurried on like a worried beetle, clutching his rucksack to his shoulders. He led them over the heath, then on past an abandoned playground. Frankie shuddered to see the broken swings and the
rusted roundabout. Suddenly a frightening thought occurred to him. ‘Do you think he knows we’re here?’ Frankie whispered anxiously. ‘What if he is leading us
somewhere?’

Neet shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Frankie,’ she said. ‘But if we want to find Wes then it’s a chance we have to take.’ Frankie nodded and they pushed
on.

Timmy led them up a steep winding road. They were close enough to hear the thud and crunch of his footsteps but, thanks to Alphonsine’s silent sneakers, their own feet didn’t make a
sound.

‘Urrgh! How much farther?’ puffed Neet as the road climbed sharply. Then, as they came around the bend, their eyes widened with amazement.

Perched on top of the hill was what looked like an enormous doll’s house. The walls were straight and square, the windows gleamed like glassy eyes, and
everything
was a shade of
bubblegum pink.

‘Ewwww,’ groaned Neet. ‘I haaaate pink!’ But there was no escaping it – the door was pink, the walls were pink, even the tiles on the roof were pink. The friends
hid themselves behind a perfectly pink rose-bush and watched Timmy scuttle quickly up the path and ring the doorbell. The candy-coloured door opened quickly but, from where they were hiding, Neet
and Frankie could not see who was behind it. Then, as Timmy stepped inside, they heard a peal of laughter that sounded like the jingle of coins.

‘Quickly,’ urged Frankie, making a dash across the front lawn. Frankie and Neet crouched beneath one of the front windows and peered in. The window stood slightly open and on the
other side of the pretty lace curtains was a perfectly turned out sitting room. Pink lampshades, pink settees, pink wallpaper. There was even a pink pussycat prowling across the plush pink carpet.
Frankie felt slightly nauseous, as if he had swallowed a vat of strawberry ice-cream. Then he saw a sight that sent a chill through his veins. Perched in the middle of the sofa, like an ancient
doll, was a white-haired old lady with a curious pink smile.

‘That’s her!’ Frankie whispered.

‘Who?’ Neet replied, baffled.

‘Marvella Brand.’

Marvella was a strange sight to behold. Her wizened features were framed by white ringleted hair and she was wearing a prim satin party dress. Frankie noticed that she was clutching something
between her crumpled hands. It was a rather tired-looking fairy wand. Marvella’s pale eyes were focused intently on Timmy, who was engulfed in a puffy armchair, scoffing what looked like a
handful of marshmallows.

‘How charming!’ the old lady trilled, swinging her legs forward and clapping her hands together like a little girl. ‘How simply delightful! You must come round to play more
often!’ Frankie winced. Like her famous permafrost smile, there was something chilly about Marvella’s voice.

‘Now,’ said Marvella, ‘what have you found out about our little party-poopers?’

‘Can I have my vouchers?’ said Timmy through a mouthful of mallow.

‘No,’ said Marvella with a sugary snap. ‘Information first, vouchers later.’ Timmy pulled a sulky face, but there was something about Marvella that you didn’t want
to trifle with.

‘Well, Frankie hasn’t brought his Mechanimal into school for a while . . .’ Timmy began.

Frankie and Neet stared at each other. So they were right. Timmy
had
been following them. ‘. . . He doesn’t seem to want to play with Mechanimals any more – which is
weird – and Neet is always hanging out at his house with that mad old French lady, and then the other day I saw them snooping around the shop. Frankie went right into the grotto
and—’

‘That’s enough!’ hissed Marvella in a voice that sounded like an icicle snapping. ‘I was warned about this.’ Marvella poured herself a cup of raspberry tea and sat
silently, collecting her thoughts. She looked like one of those old porcelain dolls that Frankie’s cousin Amelia collected. The sort that you are not supposed to play with in case its head
falls off.

‘Can I have my vouchers now?’ Timmy asked again.

‘You must do me a teensy-weensy favour first,’ Marvella replied, ‘
then
you can have as many vouchers as you like, OK?’

‘Fine,’ grumbled Timmy. ‘What is it?’

‘All I want you to do,’ Marvella cooed, ‘is bring your two little friends—’

‘They’re not my friends,’ Timmy scoffed, through a sugary mouthful.

‘Whatever,’ snapped Marvella. ‘Bring Frankie and Anita to the store tomorrow lunchtime. I need to get them out of the way for a while. We don’t want them spoiling
everybody’s fun.’ Frankie and Neet looked at each other in horror.

‘But . . .’ Timmy seemed suddenly uncomfortable. ‘But what are you going to do to them?’

Marvella burst into a peal of silver laughter. ‘Silly boy!’ she said. ‘We’re not going to
do
anything to them. We just need to send them on a little trip,
that’s all. Like a holiday.’

‘Well, I guess that’s OK,’ Timmy replied cautiously. ‘And then I’ll get my vouchers, right?’

‘That’s it!’ Neet hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve had enough of this! I’m going in there right now! We need to know what’s going on!’

‘Shhh!’ warned Frankie, catching her arm. His gut was telling him that the danger they were in was very real. ‘Remember what Alphonsine said. We have to be patient.’

Neet muttered in annoyance but they stayed where they were, as still and as silent as snails.

Soon, Timmy was sent scurrying out of the door. They were about to follow him back when Neet heard the beeps of a telephone being dialled. They peeked through the lace curtains and saw Marvella
clutching a large pink receiver between her tiny hands. ‘Is everything ready for the meeting tomorrow morning?’ she hissed between her pearly white teeth. A voice at the other end of
the line burbled a reply, but Frankie and Neet couldn’t make out the words. ‘No. No more time,’ snapped Marvella. ‘Christmas is just around the corner– we can’t
delay a moment longer. Besides, I have given you everything you need – the elves, the workshops. Now I expect to see results.’

‘Who is she talking to?’ said Neet. ‘You don’t think she’s kidnapped Santa, do you?’ Frankie was straining his ears to hear the other voice. Something had
snagged in his brain, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

‘Yes, yes,’ Marvella continued. ‘They will both be delivered tomorrow, as you requested. One of their classmates will be bringing them in; a greedy little goblin called Timmy .
. . Yes, he’ll be there. He’d bring his own granny if he thought there was a voucher in it.’

Frankie and Neet exchanged glances. Marvella was probably right about that.

The voice at the end of the line buzzed anxiously. ‘Listen,’ Marvella snapped. ‘If it wasn’t for me you’d still be scampering round your cage eating sunflower
seeds.’

Frankie felt his stomach tighten.

‘You should remember that I only put my time and money into rescuing you because I heard about your pioneering work with children. The Marvella Brand corporation has invested a great deal
in
Project Wishlist
,’ Marvella continued frostily, ‘now we expect results.’ The burbling at the other end of the line subsided. ‘You are the world’s top brain
scientist,’ she said. ‘I don’t expect to be disappointed.’

Suddenly, Frankie knew – with absolute certainty – who was on the other end of the line. He felt his skin shivering into hundreds of goosebumps.

‘Goodnight, Dr Gore,’ Marvella hissed through her stretched smile. ‘Don’t let the children down.’

‘I should have known Dr Gore was behind all of this!’ Eddie exclaimed, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. ‘It’s got his fingerprints all over
it!’

‘Well it would explain what happened to Snuffles,’ said Neet. ‘But how . . . how did they turn him back into a human being?’

‘There’s nothing very human about Dr Gore,’ said Frankie and shuddered. Just saying his enemy’s name was enough to send a shiver of dread down his spine.

‘Marvella has an awful lot of money,’ sighed Eddie. ‘If she wants something done there is not a lot that will get in her way. This time she wanted Dr Gore’s brainpower.
She probably tracked him down and struck a deal: she would follow his instructions to turn him back into a human if he would promise to work for her. Simple as that.’

‘Simple for an evil genius, yes,’ muttered Alphonsine, sucking pensively on her coffee.

‘But what do they want with us?’ Neet stammered.

Alphonsine narrowed her two grey eyes. ‘Something most evil is afoot in that emporium, no doubts about it,’ she said, ‘and Dr Gore doesn’t want you two mangling it up for
him like last time. That’s why he needs to get you out of the way.’

Neet stamped her foot in frustration. ‘We’re running out of time,’ she said. ‘
Project Wishlist
is already underway but we don’t have the first idea how to
stop it. We don’t even know what happened to Wes!’

Frankie nodded. Neet was right. They hadn’t even started to join the dots. There was the mind-sweeping, the morse code, the message. But what did it all add up to?

‘Marvella said something about a meeting,’ said Frankie. ‘We need to find a way in.’ Everyone nodded in agreement. ‘It is being held tomorrow morning, so I say we
break into Marvella’s tonight.’

‘Sure,’ said Neet, ‘but how? It’s a fortress. The whole place is alarmed. There are cameras everywhere. They’ll catch us in a flash and hand us over to Dr
Gore!’ Frankie felt a panic rising in his chest as he remembered the time Dr Gore had locked him in a dark cupboard until he thought he’d go mad with fear. But Alphonsine seemed
strangely calm. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a large, grubby-looking piece of paper. ‘Look what I found in ze dustbin!’ she grinned. Alphonsine spread the paper out
on the table and sat back triumphantly. It was the architect’s plans for Marvella’s store.

‘What did I tell you?’ smiled Eddie proudly. ‘Nobody knows how to rummage in a bin like my Alfie!’

The friends stayed up till the early hours of the morning plotting their break-in. Neet was right. It was a fortress. All the doors were heavily bolted and alarmed, and there were security
cameras all the way around the building. But there was one route in – via a small air vent at the side of the shop. It looked just about wide enough for Neet and Frankie to crawl through, but
there was no way Alfie or Eddie could come with them. After Alphonsine had removed the vent-cover with her trusty screwdriver Frankie and Neet would be on their own.